


Flesh and Blood

by crackfic (mickeym)



Category: Popslash
Genre: Bloodplay, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-12
Updated: 2002-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/crackfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC has a little kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Co-authored, as Crackfic, with the lovely halowrites.

It isn't until he actually has the shaving cream spread over his face that JC realizes he can't actually _see_, that the mirror is still fogged up from Chris' shower.

It's a minor inconvenience, sure, but it's still a pain, because--he's _ready_. He's there, poised, ready to shave, and now he has to stop, wipe the mirror, and start over. Not a big deal, but. A disruption.

Chris would so laugh at him, if he weren't out in the bedroom getting dressed. Maybe call him anal, or obsessive, or something. But whatever, he has to shave -- and Chris told him firmly this morning, scruff is one thing, but he's crossed the line now -- so he reaches for the towel and leans in to wipe the mirror clean. And nearly has a heart attack when Chris is suddenly standing _right there_, behind him.

"Jesus, Chris!"

Chris reaches around, and pinches one of JC's nipples, and JC can see him in the mirror, grinning at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny. You want the scruff gone, cut that the hell out."

Chris holds up his hands in mock-surrender. "Dude, fine, fine. Far be it for me to stand between a man and his facial needs." He steps back, rubbing a towel through his still-wet hair.

JC tilts his head back and slides the razor upwards along the curve of his neck, the blade snicking gently as he runs it across the stubble. Then there's another quick nipple pinch, and he jumps a little, not expecting it at all. OK, so it feels good, but...yes. Trying to shave here.

"Chris." He frowns. "I'm trying to concentrate."

That grin again. "Concentrate on _this._"

Chris does it again. Flashes a smile at JC in the mirror and pinches a little harder, tugs just a little.

"C'mon man, I'm shaving here," JC smiles at him, and he swirls the razor in the soapy water, holds it to his neck again. And still Chris just stands there, watching, dark eyes in the mirror looking back at JC, following the upward slide of the blade.

"I know, C. And fuck...sexy as hell, dude." JC shivers when Chris reaches up, traces his fingers lightly over the damp skin of his throat, skating along where the razor recently stroked. His other hand snakes around JC's waist, tan fingers splayed against smooth skin, worrying at the worn waistband of JC's jeans. His lips are warm -- hot, really -- when he presses them against JC's neck. "I wanna...Jesus. Touch you and never stop. Eat you up."

"Yeah, well...can't you wait five minutes? I'll be done." JC turns slightly, rests his chin in the warm hollow of Chris' skin where shoulder and neck meet. Licks his shower damp skin with a rough tongue. "Then you can eat me."

"I dunno, man. Five minutes? Five _whole_ minutes?" Chris bites down gently on the lobe of JC's ear, runs a hand across his stomach, warm skin over hard muscle.

"Five minutes isn't that long," JC turns his head and kisses Chris lightly, grins against his mouth when fingers scrabble at the front of his jeans. He pushes gently away from Chris and reaches down to catch his hand. "Five minutes, and then I'm yours. You can...do whatever, man. Promise."

"Promise, huh?" JC can see Chris' eyes in the mirror, dark, intense, and...up to something. Oh yeah, definitely up to something. Something he's certain to find out in five minutes.

Or possibly sooner. Because now Chris' hand is taking the razor from his fingers, and JC's so surprised he doesn't even think of trying to hold on to it.

"Uh...Chris? Kinda need that for the whole shaving thing."

"Uh huh." And Chris places one hand on JC's jaw, fingers gently tilting his head back, warm where they touch his skin. He lifts the razor, and slides it through a strip of shaving foam along JC's throat, pressing warm lips to the back of his neck again. "I'm shaving. See?"

"Uh. Yeah." He's shaving...and he's doing something else. JC swallows roughly when Chris strokes the razor over his throat at the same time his other hand rubs JC's cock through his jeans. He's getting hard; of course he is. He's not made of stone, and he has a naked Chris pressed against his back, rubbing and touching him, and getting kind of kinky.

He moans very softly when Chris outlines his growing erection behind the jeans, and inches his hips forward toward the touch. Chris laughs darkly in his ear.

"So hot, aren't you, baby?" Another stroke of the razor, and JC's keenly aware of the sharp,sharp, not-a-safety-razor blade inching hotly over his skin. Chris' eyes meet his in the mirror and he stares, breath caught in his throat, heart suddenly still, no noise, nothing to tell him he's alive and standing here except the dark, hot gaze holding his. Then Chris takes JC's hand and cups it around his erection. "Rub yourself."

And suddenly JC wants to do just that, wants to do that more than anything else he can possibly think of. Chris' body is pressed close to his, and he can feel the heat coming from him burning into his skin like something alive. Something hot and spiky and shivering, twisting into his belly and making his toes curl and his head spin.

He squeezes his cock through the rough denim of his jeans, feels how hard he is, and can't stop the moan that slips from his lips. Another squeeze, a pulse of redgold heat centered in his groin that slowly spreads outwards through his body.

"So fucking hot," Chris hisses in his ear, and JC nods, the slight movement pressing the blade more sharply against the soft skin of his throat, and he bites down on his lip- hard- to try and stop the full body shiver that races through him.

The next stroke of the razor grazes naked skin -- no more foam left -- and the sting that follows behind fills JC's vision with silver sparkles. He bites down again on his lip and tastes blood, sees the dark wet gleam of it in the mirror, follows Chris with his eyes when Chris leans close -- not moving the razor, just moving his head in -- and lick at the edge of his mouth. JC turns his head at the last minute and feels his knees get weak when Chris licks that bit of blood off his lips.

"Chris--"

"You taste good." His voice is smoke and heat, the words dark, liquid, washing over JC. "Open your jeans, C. I want to see you stroking yourself."

JC fumbles with the buttons, almost clumsy in his urgency. He gets them undone, slips his hand inside and wraps long fingers round his cock, hissing a breath from between clenched teeth as his fist slides over hot, tight skin. Another shiver passes through him, head to toe, and he can feel Chris' eyes on him, watching his every move. Feels him pressing against him, feels his breath hot and damp against his neck.

And still, the press of the blade at his throat, the warm trickle of blood sliding slickslow down his neck from where it's nicked his skin. JC licks his bottom lip and tastes the hot metal tang of the bite mark he's made, runs his tongue over the raw flesh to feel the tiny red spikes of pain that flash sharp and bright behind his eyes.

"Faster," Chris whispers, voice filthy-low in his ear, a command JC's only too happy to follow. "I want to see you make yourself come." And he presses the blade closer still; the sting as it slices into the pale flesh once more spiraling all the way down into JC's belly, fierce, dark and red-hot.

It's wild, he thinks, to look at the liquid dark of Chris' eyes -- hot, smoky brown -- and the liquid dark of the trickle of blood from the razor, bright red against his skin. JC watches Chris' tongue dart out, lick over his lips, eyes following the droplets.

"Taste me?" His voice is hoarse, and each quick sound makes the razor sting against his skin, the blade sharp, brand new out of the package this morning. Honed and ready. Chris smiles at him in the mirror and it's a hungry, predatory smile, before he changes hands slowly, holding the razor tight against JC's throat with his left, reaching to gather up shiny, red drops on his right fingers.

"Taste yourself," he says, each word sharp and bright like the razor. He smears the blood over JC's lips, then reaches up to lick it off, muttering against JC's mouth, "Don't stop. You're so fucking hot when you're close to coming."

And as Chris moves away again, sucking and biting at the skin of his neck, JC licks his lips, tastes his own blood, the copper-slickness on his tongue, against the roof of his mouth. He sees his reflection, the red smear of his mouth, his eyes wild, lips pulled back, teeth bared.

"Fuck," he whispers, fist still working his cock, the fingers of his other hand twisting and pulling at a nipple. "I want-- "

"What?" Chris says, breath hot against JC's ear. "You want what? Tell me, C. Tell me what you want."

JC swallows, the blade moving against his throat, a sharp, silver sting. "I want...I want you to cut. Cut me again." And just speaking the words is almost enough to send him over the edge, and he closes his eyes and bites down hard on his lip again to keep control.

"You want...." Chris' voice trails off, the words rough with lust, with a need so great JC is sure he'd be able to see it if he could open his eyes. And he knows he will open them in a minute, because, he has to see this. Has to see the blade bite him, see himself bleed. Has to see it and feel it and take it within himself.

Chris presses himself tighter against JC, and JC wishes he didn't have the jeans on, that he could feel completely the solid heat of Chris' erection pushing against him, could feel silky hot skin rubbing into the crack of his ass. By now Chris is probably leaking, tip of his cock damp, much like JC's is. He rubs the palm of his hand over himself before stroking back up his shaft, shudders gently through several strokes before he feels the sting increase, before he has to crack his eyes open.

Chris is staring at him, watching him, and he smiles...just a little, just...so, and presses down. JC swallows hard and feels something leap inside his chest, feels his stomach twist up in anticipation, feels burning white heat streak outward through his pelvis. And he pushes his neck forward to meet the blade, groaning when it sinks into his skin -- he can feel it, feel the metal bite him -- when the sizzle of pain meets the pleasure.

His hand tightens on his cock as he feels the trickle of blood, watches mesmerized as the scarlet-red drops slide downward, standing out against the paleness of his skin.

"Pretty," Chris breathes, reaching out to trail a finger through the sticky wetness, smearing crimson across his fingertips, then licking it off slowly. His eyes meet JC's in the mirror, dark, intense, hungry. "Come for me," he whispers, sliding those same fingers across JC's belly, slick and warm.

And JC moans, breathing hard now, leaning back against the slope of Chris' chest as he fists his cock, hips twisting forward in sharp little jerks. He can feel the heat gathering in the pit of his stomach, can feel the slide of Chris' skin against his back. Silvery heat snakes through him as Chris presses the blade close one more time, and that's all it takes. He bites down on his lip again, hard; teeth piercing flesh once more, and his mouth fills with copper.

Red blood in his mouth, red blood on his skin, and blood red in his head, pulsing behind his eyes. He shudders, and comes hard, keening low in his throat, Chris warm and solid behind him, the only thing keeping him upright.

"So pretty," Chris whispers again, even that soft sound loud in the near-silence around them. JC can hear his pulse thudding in his ears, in time with his heart pounding in his chest, and above all that, the ragged sounds of him breathing, sounding like he just ran a marathon. He licks his lips and tastes blood and Chris on them, can taste it in his mouth, too, the blood harsh against his tongue, but--good.

Then the blade is gone and he almost misses its sharpness, the bite of it against his skin, the feeling when it sank into him. Almost, but not quite, because Chris is fumbling at his waist now, hands shoving at the denim, pushing his jeans down over his thighs, bending him forward over the counter. JC groans when Chris runs a finger down his spine, between his cheeks, rubbing over his hole just briefly before pressing forward. He tastes blood again when his teeth close over his tongue at the first sharp thrust, redbrighthotdarksilverlight sparkling all through him.

He feels Chris's hands grasping his hips, fingertips pressing into bone, flashpoints of heat against his skin. Chris thrusts again, then leans forward, his teeth grazing JC's shoulder. "Do you know what you looked like?" he hisses against JC's neck, fingers tightening their grip. "How fucking hot that was?" Another thrust, and this time his teeth sink into flesh, a sting of another kind; followed by a rough sweep of tongue.

"Tell me," says JC, raising his head to meet Chris' eyes in the mirror once more. "Tell me how it made you feel when you saw me come."

"It made me want. I wanted to bury myself inside you and fuck you until blood ran." Chris punctuates each word with a quick, sharp thrust, and JC writhes backward against him, fingers clutching at the marble countertop for purchase. It's slick, he's slick and sticky, and there's sweat pooling between him and Chris.

"You liked it," he pants, wriggling again. He reaches for himself, hard again from the stimulation and the words. "You liked making me bleed, watching me come like that."

"Fuck, _yes!_" Chris leans over him, fingers biting in hard, fingernails scraping his skin. JC shudders and arches his back, tips his head back, groaning when Chris sinks his teeth into his neck. "Loved it...loved it... would do it over and over..."

"God," JC moans, shoving himself back at Chris. The visuals in his head make him dizzy; opening his eyes is almost worse, because he can see the lust in his eyes, in Chris' eyes, can see the red streaks bright against pale skin, and remember the wild look on his face when Chris cut him at his request. He shudders, hard, and comes again, hot and sticky against his belly, Chris coming inside him right after, teeth hard and sharp as they bite into his shoulder.

"_Fuck_," mutters JC, when he can form words again, his breathing ragged, Chris draped warm and heavy behind him. "That was...fuck."

"Hmmm," Chris replies. "What you said." He licks JC's shoulder where he's bitten it earlier, soothing the sting, then presses his lips to the saltyslick skin. "Stand up," he murmurs, his arm around JC's waist, fingers stroking his belly gently.

JC stands and turns, faces Chris, blue eyes meeting dark brown. He reaches up and touches Chris' face; leans in and kisses him, and Chris tastes the sharpness of the blood still in his mouth, feels the slide of JC's tongue against his own. He runs his fingers along JC's face, across his jaw and then grins against JC's mouth.

"What?" JC pulls back, and looks at him. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," Chris smiles, wrinkling his nose. "Just thinking you could do with a shave."

~fin~

 


End file.
